


In Deep

by Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)



Series: Killers for Hire (SkyeWard AU) [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Killers for Hire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 08:36:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1976286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye gets rescued.  Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Deep

Skye kind of always figured that when the time came, she’d be taken out by a private militia.  When you put down enough high-risk targets, eventually someone is going to send their personal militia after you, and then you’re gunned down in a blaze of machine gun fire, as is the circle of life.

This, however, is not a private militia.  This is a bunch of drug lords.  This isn’t even a torture chamber, it’s a garage, and really, she’s kind of insulted.

She’s pretty sure the one with the nicest shoes is in charge.  So as she waits for her cue, the moment when she will break this chair and kill everyone in this room, she thinks that she will kill him first.

«You know what I like about mercenaries?» Nice Shoes asks her, and yeah, that usually signifies that someone’s in charge.  She thinks she’s seen his picture before, with a bounty attached, but she can’t remember a name.

Her Russian isn’t very good, but she manages to come up with «I prefer the term contractor.»

He chuckles at either her horrible accent or her words.  «Cute,» he says.

“Thanks,” she replies.  She could continue in Russian, but she doesn’t want to.

«You all work alone,» he says.  Which must be the answer to his earlier inquiry. «No one is coming to help you.»

“I hope that wasn’t supposed to scare me,” she replies.

He smirks.  That’s almost the cue.  «Watch carefully,» he tells the others, and she’s almost there.  He reaches for the gun on his hip.

  
  


The second he takes the gun out of the holster, Skye kicks out her legs to push backwards.  The impact breaks the chair at the exact moment the door explodes.  Whatever the fuck that is, she didn’t do it.

“I’m looking for someone,” Grant Ward announces, appearing before Skye and her attackers through a cloud of smoke like the attention-seeking little worm that he is.  He’s got a picture held up, a fucking full-sized glossy headshot, like he went somewhere specifically to print out a headshot of who Skye thinks is probably Nice Shoes.  Ward doesn’t even look at her.  He just does that faux-modest smirk of his, the one that goes with a small downward shake of his head. “Hell, my Russian’s not very good,” he says.

Skye is not thankful for his arrival, because she had the whole situation completely under control.  In fact, she’s managed to get her wrists untied in the time it took for Ward to get through his opening act.

One of the men makes the mistake of pointing a gun at Ward’s head.

«Who the fuck are you?» he asks.

Finally, finally, Ward catches Skye’s eye, as she rises to her feet.  The attention stays on Ward, but his eyes are honing in on her.  Staring.  Assessing.  She knows that spark in his eyes.

He grins.  “I’m late for the party, apparently,” Ward says.

  
  


As her first mark crumples beneath her, Skye has the good sense to fish the knife out of his coat. She flicks it open.  “Ward!” she yells, over the din.  “This guy has a diamond-encrusted switchblade!”

A couple of gunshots.  “Seriously?” Ward calls back.  “That is ridiculous.”

The next mark tries to grab Skye by her hair. He gets a switchblade to the face, and then she finishes the job as he cries out under her new knife. It’s an excellent fucking knife. “I think it’s a stainless steel blade,” Skye announces.

“A real trophy,” Ward says.  “I’m so proud.”

“Fuck off,” she tells him. Nice Shoes is making a run for it.  “Fuck!” she yells, and heads after him.  “Ward, he’s-” 

She goes over a dead body (one of Ward’s), only to find he isn’t all that dead when he takes a swipe at her leg. Takes a pretty good chunk out of it, but misses her Achilles.  She turns back to him, and she makes sure not to miss.

It’s still a pretty deep cut.  She’s not going to be able to run after Nice Shoes, and that fucking blows.

“Skye?” Ward asks.  “What’s going on?”

“You can’t complete your kills like a fucking professional should,” she says, and fuck, this really, really hurts.  How much blood is she losing?  She feels kind of sick.

“Wasn’t mine,” Ward says back.  She can finally see him.  The smoke’s cleared out and everyone else is dead.  “You’re the one that misses her kill shots.”

“Nice Shoes is getting away,” Skye says.  She braces herself on the wall.

Ward gets closer.  Two Wards.  Three.  “Who?” he says.  “The mark?”

“Nice Shoes,” Skye says, again.  The words feel heavy.  She feels heavy.

“My-” Ward looks down at his feet.  Back up to Skye.  “Skye?” he asks.

She collapses.  She thinks she hears him yell her name.  Always so dramatic.

  
  


—

  
  


There are few things she hates less than waking up in one of Grant Ward’s safehouses.  Because every time she does, she ends up owing him, big.  He’s even got her in a bed, and that’s probably going to cost her more than if he’d just tossed her onto the couch, like he usually did when she got too drunk.

She pukes into a trashbin that was left by her bed.  The bin smells oddly of soap, or did before she retched into it.

In the chair next to the bed, Ward stirs.  “You’re awake,” he says.

“I’m awake,” Skye tells him.

“You got poisoned,” he tells her.  “The guy who cut your leg.  He had something on his knife.”  He seems…less Ward-like.  Quieter.  Like the rage he usually expresses so fervently is just simmering there.

“Well I’m glad I killed him, then,” Skye says.  She tries to sit up a little more, and her head swims.

What bothers her is that Ward jumps out of his chair to help her.  Like he cares.  Like she means something to him.

“I’m fine,” she tells him, brushing off his hands.  “Get off.”

“Skye,” he says, in a voice she has never heard before.  “You almost died.”

“I’ve ‘almost died’ plenty of times,” she says.  “So have you.  It’s part of the job.”

“It’s not like that,” he says.  “You were…you were really sick.  And I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well I’m not sick anymore,” Skye notes.  “So you must’ve done something.”

“I called a doctor,” he says, softly. 

She slams her first into the mattress.  “Ward!” she yells.  “You could’ve gotten turned in.  We could’ve gotten turned in!”

“You were dying,” he says.  He doesn’t yell back, and that bothers her.

“Where did you get the money to pay for a doctor?” she asks.

“I’ll make it up somehow,” he says.

She unclenches her fist.  Rubs the sheets beneath her hands.  “You spent money on me,” she says.  “Real money.  On a doctor.”

She feels sick.  Not the kind of sick she felt when she was poisoned.  Her stomach churns but does not ache, and her heart pounds even though she’s sitting still.

“I couldn’t let you die,” he says.

It’s not “I love you.”  But for them, it’s too damn close.

“Don’t do this,” Skye says.  “Ward.  Please just-” Don’t put words to something that doesn’t deserve it.

He leans in and kisses her forehead.  “I’m sorry,” he says, his breath warming her skin. “But I’d do it again.”

She’s starting to realize her leg is throbbing.  Stitches will do that.  She looks at her knees.  “Do you have any painkillers?” she asks.  She’ll talk about anything that isn’t this.

“I’ll check,” he tells her.  He backs away from her like she’s a stranger.  Maybe she is.  “How strong?”

She shrugs.  “Surprise me,” she says.  He tries to smile at her, and she feels herself returning it without meaning to.

  
  


He leaves the room, and she plays with a loose thread.

It bothers her.  The whole thing.  This affection and this camaraderie and they’re just fuckbuddies, really.  Why did he have to make this weird?

Does he think she would do the same for him?

Would she?

She swallows the bile in her throat.  Yes.  She would.


End file.
